


It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

by Darkwalk



Category: The Transformers (Cartoon Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Christmas Caroling, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Silliness, Family, Holidays, Humor, Play Fighting, Snowball Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-09-12 03:08:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9052756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkwalk/pseuds/Darkwalk
Summary: Christmas silliness and fluff.





	1. Wrapping Paper Wars

“I don't think I'm doing this right.” Trailbreaker struggled over taping the edges with clumsy fingers.

Wrapping paper was easy to tear and difficult to use for the humans. The bots were having an even tougher time of it. At least a few with more nimble digits had managed to wrap the few presents they were giving to each other. Most of them weren't really interested in giving or getting presents. They just wanted to participate in the holiday. 

That didn't mean the pile wasn't liberally fluffed with fake gifts. A few mechs wrapped rocks as a joke, tossed in empty energon cubes because they were bored, or grabbed random objects because they actually liked wrapping but had run out of things to wrap. Hence, the cheery music playing in the rec room as half the crew had a fun time making a mess and goofing off while pretending to be helpful. The floor was littered with confetti likes scraps, crumpled tape, and tissue paper as if they'd just had their New Year's party that was still some days to come. 

Perceptor made a lot of noise pushing the rolls out of the way and glancing beneath empty cardboard boxes with a look of frustration upon his face, “Have any of you seen my scissors? They were just here.”

Several helm shakes answered him as mechs checked their messy parts of the tables and didn't find them. Gears and Huffer traded looks, Gears slumping down in his seat to hopefully go unnoticed. Face as emotive as stone, Huffer merely wrote something on a tag and stuck it to a suspiciously scissor shaped present hiding in the pile of colorful gifts.

“Hey, that looks like a flag.”

It was hard to hear over the chatter and the radio, but Smokescreen's voice still carried. Everyone looked up to see what he was talking about. Red faceplates down as he focused on carefully folding the paper, Tracks didn't immediately notice everyone turning to him. Until Raoul leaned over from where he was lounging and whacked the mech on the arm. 

“Hey! Watch the paint!”

Raoul grinned back unashamed, “Smokes wants to talk to you man.”

“Your wrapping paper looks like a flag,” The blue Datsun pointed out before the pair could get into an argument. Everyone looked at Tracks' roll of green and cream colored paper. There was a bit of leftover sticking off the top in a long rectangle. It did look somewhat like a flag. 

Everyone else took notice of their rolls. Several had the same appearance as Tracks'. Shifty optics flickered around as they all stopped talking. Impish grins crept up and teeth flashed before chaos erupted. 

When Optimus came in, he was startled by the loud shouting. The first thing he noticed was the fact that the room was now split in two, tables shoved to either side with the presents and tree safely relocated to the far corner. The group of bots on the right had wrapping paper bandannas taped to their helms. Across the messy space and crouched behind their tables mechs had paper hats on. Both groups held up rolls like flags and used the empty cardboard cylinders to mime shooting. 

Yells of; “I shot you in the chest!”, “Did not! You missed!”, and “This is our castle. Just try and take it from us!” drowned out the happy sounds of 'Its the Most Wonderful Time of Year.'

Face-palming, Optimus exclaimed loudly, “I was gone five minutes!”

Everyone stopped to look at him. Snickers. Unrepentant grins answered him. Evil little gremlins. The Prime would have to make sure some coal made it's way into the present pile. They would get a kick out of that. 

“Join our side!” Raoul waved to get his attention, wrapping bandanna almost sliding off his real one. 

Boos from the other side until Optimus raised empty palms and took a step back, “I don't think I should join. That would be unfair.”

“But they have Prowl on their side!”

The hat group did indeed have the tactician. Coolly saluting, the Praxian settled a pretend flag against his shoulder and quirked a smile. Optimus gave him a look to make sure he knew who was handling this craziness before taking another step back. “Ratchet just called. Have to go.”

Shouts of “Liar!”, “Coward!”, and “Noooo! Come back!” followed the Prime as he took off back out the door.


	2. Treats and Sweets

They knew what they were doing. Really! It wasn't like this was their first time making energon goodies. Just because they weren't experts didn't mean they couldn't do it. 

But Bluestreak came in like a whirlwind, adjusting the temperatures, stirring the pots and animatedly giving advice on how to fix what they were doing wrong. In no time at all, Ratchet and Wheeljack stood off to the side as the silver and red mech took over making the energon treats for the Christmas party. Fast and loud party music started playing as the mech got worked up and into it. 

Ratchet just shook his helm in surprise. “Did you know he could make snacks?”

“Nope.” Wheeljack snickered, his audio finials flashing red and green for the holidays, “I wonder where he learned it from.”

“Blaster apparently.”

“I didn't know he could bake either.”

Speak of the devil, a tall orange mech danced into the room and swept Bluestreak into a hug. A happy laugh burst out. The music got louder and the pair quickly got into a discussion on consistency, flavor, and texture. Ratchet made a face and covered his audios. 

“Well, at least now we know why Blue insists on playing rave music every time he cooks,” He had to say it loudly so Wheeljack could hear him over the pulsing beats, remembering an incident months before where the sniper had made flavored energon drinks for Halloween. 

A hum. Wheeljack crossed his arms and looked at his companion, “Why do I get the feeling we just got kicked out of the kitchen?”


	3. It's a Winter Wonderland

Surveying the pristine glittering white expanse, Sunstreaker had to admit it was pretty. Snow was not his favorite thing, too cold and wet. But it did give the world a new and beautiful look. The mountain slope outside the Ark was covered in several feet of the fluffy precipitation.

A snowball smacked him in the back of his helm.

“Sideswipe!” 

Laughter, as Sideswipe hooted at his twin and threateningly waved another fistful of snow. Sunstreaker's face took on a dramatic and mock psychotic look with wide optics. Then he scooped up some slush and hurled it at his brother with a huge grin. “Attack!”

Yelling gleefully, the pair slung snowballs back and forth, thoroughly covering each other in powder. Sideswipe dodged one and then squeaked as his golden brother tackled him to the ground. They wrestled, the red one shoving snow in the other's face. He got his legs kicked out from under him when he tried to stand. Sunny pinned his brother on his back and grinned triumphant for only a moment before Sideswipe rolled and thumped his twin head-first into the ground. 

Perched upon Sunstreaker who was face down in the snow, Sideswipe loudly proclaimed, “I proclaim this land for-” 

He yelped as Sunstreaker bucked him off and pounced, turning the game back to seeing who could shove more snow under the other person's plating. Several yards away and leaning back against a soft snowbank, Jazz chuckled, holding up a camera to tape the brothers. He couldn't wait to add the holiday footage to their home movies. 

A high pitched scream of delight had all three pausing to glance farther up the slope. Zipping around the sparse pines, a streak of yellow headed their way. Jazz raised his voice so the wind wouldn't carry it away.

“Docbot is gonna kill ya Bee!” The huge smile on his face belied the fact that he wasn't too worried about his own warning. 

Laughing hysterically, Bumblebee paid Jazz no mind. Hanging onto a thin round of metal for dear life, he pressed the make-shift sled down to speed up and hit a jump. The small mech flew into the air, flipping, before landing in a spectacular explosion of white dust and kept going farther down the mountains. 

They had the best sledding hill ever. The Twins stared with their mouths open. By the expression on Sideswipe's face, he was already planning to do as many crazy sledding stunts as he could before he had to be dragged to the medbay. 

The plan was waylaid though, as the snowball fight that had started down the slope steadily moved toward them. Mirage lunged out of the trees, weaving erratically as Beachcomber chased after. Hound tagged the blue geologist on the back to try and save Mirage but all three of them froze when they saw Skyfire coming through the trees. Laughing and yelling warnings, they tried to dodge the giant pile of snow heading their way and failed. 

As long as it was above twenty degrees, Skyfire had no trouble going out in the cold. And while he took a number of hits from snowballs due to his size, he had the advantage of being able to throw a lot more. 

Easily deciding who was winning, the Twins joined the shuttle's team and started to pound the others with projectiles. Howls of the unfairness of it echoed up and down the slope followed by shrieks as cold met faces and got under armor. Jazz was quite content to film it all until a ball was lobbed his way. It smacked right between his horns and he lurched in surprise, sinking deeper into the embankment. 

“Okay! Who did that?”

The guilty party refused to show themselves. Sniggers and catcalls about the spec-ops losing his touch answered instead. Stowing the camera, Jazz stood and made a show of bracing himself. 

“You slaggers are all in for it now.” He laughed, lunging into the snowball fight.


	4. Christmas Morning

“Whoah whoah whoah!” Cliffjumper yelled, holding up a red knitted Cybertronian sized hat with holes for his horns, “Where did this come from?” 

The rule of Christmas was that no one could go in the rec room to open presents until the sun rose. So at seven am, a horde of Autobots had stood in eager anticipation outside the doors of the rec room until Optimus had opened them. Shouting in joy, most had thrown themselves at the pile while the rest took their time finding a seat to watch the madness. The Dinobots had a grand time throwing their weight around to get most of the presents and before reading the tags and passing them out to whom the belonged to. A small number had no names and it was assumed they were for everyone. 

Seconds after everything had been sorted, the opening frenzy had begun. People cackled at the rocks, candy canes, autobot symbol ornaments, and plastic flamingos that had been wrapped. Sideswipe had a hard time calming down and was laughing so hard he was overheating after he opened one labeled for him and found a traffic cone inside. There were some more serious gifts though. The Aerialbots opened a large package filled with beanbag chairs for their room. Someone had put some effort into finding rainbow crystals for Sunstreaker and Wheeljack, both pleased with their presents. Powerglide was ecstatic over the model airplane kits. Quietly satisfied with the new tools, Ratchet positively glowed but said nothing Not that it would have been heard with the entire base in one room and causing a ruckus. 

After Cliffjumper's shout, people gawked at the over-sized clothing and a few others started finding similar items among their presents. Grimlock crooned loudly at the silver and blue hat made for him. Softly fingering a cream colored scarf, Prowl wrapped it around himself and leaned back against Jazz while Hoist held up a pine green and turquoise blanket. Optimus got up and started to open the gifts for everyone. Many were jokes of course. But one package held another knitted blanket. 

When he held it up for everyone to see, it unfurled to show a red Autobot symbol on a gray background. The face was the tiniest bit lopsided, showing amateur work but it was so slight, nobody noticed or cared. Several cheers and wolf whistles broke above the noise at the sight. 

“Seriously, who wrapped these?” Looking around, Cliffjumper was determined to figure it out. 

Warpath piped up from the pile of wrapping paper he was tossing into the air, “Who made them? I didn't think humans made clothes for our size.”

Everyone looked at one another, seeing confusion and denial on their neighbors faces. Inferno tore the paper off a present and pulled out a large red and orange striped shawl to go across his shoulders. He turned to give Red Alert a sharp look, mouth partially upturned and eyes narrowed. Rolling his optics, the security mech finally sighed and waved a servo to get everyone else's attention.

“I don't work all the time,” A huff, “And I need to do something in my spare time. Don't ask how much yarn I had to use to make those things.”

Everyone exclaimed over the works, yelling at Red that they were wonderful. Trying to hide his embarrassment, Red Alert just shrugged and hid his face by opening his own presents. Ironhide had put off opening his own, having too much fun watching everyone else, until people started harping at him to open them already. There were several laughs over the bumper stickers. A black blanket with a carnelian diamond pattern on the back got several whistles and Red Alert scooted behind Inferno so everyone would stop looking at him. 

“Ooooh, reminds me of Darth Maul.” Sideswipe leaned over Optimus' shoulder pads to get a better glance. 

Raising an optic ridge, Ironhide looked at the hellion like he's spoken another language, “Of what?”

“Darth Maul! Star Wars!” Blaster yelled from the other side of the room. 

Air Raid joined in, “The guy with the red and black face.”

Starting to bounce in place, Sideswipe looked pleadingly at the Prime, still leaning against his shoulder, “May I please please please borrow that blanket?” It was accompanied with puppy optics and the most innocent voice ever spoken. 

The corners of Optimus' optics crinkled as he handed over the blanket, “It is everyone's Sideswipe.”

With a whoop, the lambo had the blanket tossed over his shoulders and hanging around his helm like a cloak. He pointed a cardboard cylinder, saved from the wrapping project, at Ironhide. “You forsake the Jedi ways Sith Lord!”

The crowd scooted back to make a circle of space in the middle of the room. Ironhide copied Sideswipe and put the blanket on himself, taking a cylinder that was offered by Ratchet. “Yah shall never beat meh young Jedi punk.”

Cheered on by the audience, the two swatted at each other and whacked with their pretend lightsabers, making bad sound effects and whooshing noises the entire time. Almost falling backward to escape a low swipe, Sideswipe dramatically held up his tube, gestured at Prowl, and declared, “I will beat you and rescue Padme from your evil clutches!”

“Padme? I'm not- Jazz!” Prowl yelped as Jazz took his new scarf and wrapped it around his helm and shoulders like a head covering. 

“Is that how the story goes?” Someone spoke up. 

“It thought it was different...”

Everyone shut up as several people made loud shushing noises and the mock fight continued, clapping and yells of encouragement egging them on. It was all interrupted though, by a shout from Perceptor. 

“I found my scissors!” He held up the missing tool from where it had lain with his presents and started to do a victory dance, much to everyone else's amusement.   
.  
.  
.  
“What is that Pit forsaken noise!” Shrieked Starscream, opening the door of his lab to peer out at the noisy rabble. Several mechs were holding cubes of high grade and giggling like mad, humming out of tune. Others were snickering and flashed their teeth at him. Before he could open his mouth to order them off the base or into the brig, Skywarp flopped against the air commander.

“We're caroling! Because it's Chrissy mass.”

“It's what?!” Starscream sniffed at Skywarp but couldn't smell any high grade on him and his optics were too clear for him to be drunk, unlike a number of other mechs in the dimly lit hall. He shoved the purple seeker off himself. 

Skywarp twirled, not even stumbling at the push, “A human holiday where you give stuff. It's mushy. But they do this thing called caroling where you go around singing at people's doors and they have to listen to you.”

“They do not.”

It was stated in disbelief. Several of the mechs in the crowd disagreed loudly, proclaiming it's validity even as Skywarp nodded. “They really do.”

“Drunk caroling.”

“Is there a better kind? Wanna join us?” Wings flicked up hopefully, pure and evil joy in his face.

“Why in the name of Primus would I.....” An idea popped into Starscream's head, as he took in their direction. A few mechs swayed as they stood in place, forgetting why they were standing around waiting. Some started singing off-key again. “Are you going past the command center?” The exact room Megatron was in because he was always in there at this time. 

“Yep.”

Well since it was a holiday about giving, Starscream supposed he could be in a generous mood and give his lord a song. Lips curled up into a crooked and devious smile. Those awake and aware enough to notice took two steps back on instinct.

“Of course Skywarp,” tone raspish and sugary, the tri-colored seeker nearly purred, “What song are we singing?” He asked as he stepped out and closed the door behind him, walking with the motley group, “I'm sure everyone else on base would love to hear our singing.”

He would get scrapped for this. Starscream knew it. But the idea of tormenting everyone else and especially Megatron was too tempting to pass up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They are all drama llamas, I swear.   
> Merry Christmas everyone.


End file.
